Mary Ann Honaker
I keep seeing you in the Commons,
the battle just finished, the blood
still dripping from the trees. Walking
the broad paths, looking up at the monument
of Lincoln. The Sheraton-Commander is very old,
you know, standing over the scene
with its immense weight, its heavy curtains,
its gaudy sign. You walk in and out among
the patterns of the shadows of trees.
Maybe you sit, like Buddha under the bodhi tree.
Only this isn’t enlightenment, this is
much more terrible. [Read more…]